


Words

by AmyNChan



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, I didn't edit this, I like my angst, hope you like it anyways, welp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-02 23:53:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16315076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyNChan/pseuds/AmyNChan
Summary: Platitudes, clichés, she’d had enough of them.  She’d had enough of prepackaged words to convey ideas and feelings that were so much deeper than what the universe at large had to say about them.





	Words

Words held a special place in her heart.

The phrase itself was clichéd and worthless if taken at face value.  Anything, after all, could hold a ‘special place in one’s heart’ if one looked closely enough.  It was a fact that Genevieve Shepard had learned growing up as an Alliance kid.  Clichés and platitudes had their time and place and they certainly could get anyone where they needed to go—a promotion, extra vacation time, greasing the hands when it came to weapons dispersal—but such things could only carry a person so far in terms of communication.

Ashley had said it best back on Virmire, which now seemed a whole lifetime away.  “Why is it that whenever someone says ‘with all due respect’, they really mean ‘kiss my ass’?”

‘With all due respect’, ‘It’s an honor’, and even the ‘yes sirs’ and ‘no ma’ams’ that had been drilled into their heads during training were meant to come from a place of sincere respect and admiration.  But, said as often as they were, the words that had once been so shiny and new had become dull and faded, their original intent becoming just as jaded as the words themselves.  They rang empty in Shepard’s ear save for very special occasions.  When there was a fire in the speaker’s spirit that breathed life into those platitudes once more.  Whispered in urgency, declared boldly with pride, or stated in reverence.  These occasions always got passes and allowed her to see past the shallow interpretation of the world and into the intent of why such words had been strung together in the first place.

But on the whole, words were there to get jobs done and Shepard was nothing if not someone who got a job done.  She excelled in using her words to achieve her ends, even when a part of her killed her to say them.  She never would be sorry for leaking the story of Saren to that reporter, regardless of what she had told Hackett at the time.

Platitudes, clichés, she’d had enough of them.  She’d had enough of prepackaged words to convey ideas and feelings that were so much deeper than what the universe at large had to say about them.

She supposed that was why she didn’t use those words.  Not often, at least.

She had never hidden the depth of her emotions from him.  Not by a long shot.  Even before their first night, she had been plain and honest with him, asking him to tell her if she made him uncomfortable.  He’d told her she made him a bit nervous and it was a sentiment she had shared, but neither had felt uncomfortable.  And when in her cabin, their night had been honest, laying out their insecurities and their nervousness around one another before laying those fears—and more—to rest.

But she hadn’t said it.  Not then, not after their survival, not even upon their separation.  At that point, saying it would have been too much to bear.  And when she had thought of saying it, the fear of it becoming a platitude had haunted her, the idea that perhaps she hadn’t made it clear enough beforehand stopping her.

So they had parted with a tender embrace under tense circumstances.  A separation that lasted all of six months.  A genuine promise to continue the fight against the Reapers.  A silent oath to find each other again.

And find each other they did.  In the heat of battle, on Palaven’s moon.  Facing hoards of husks and picking off Reaper thralls had become somewhat therapeutic in her dealing with the fact that she could not be on Earth when it needed her, but seeing him again–alive and in one piece—had definitely taken some of the tension away from her shoulders.  Even more had left when he came with her on the Normandy, ready and willing to face the Reaper threat by her side once more.

She hadn’t said it at their proper reunion either.  She’d been honest, their chances of survival in the war were slim but she was game if he was.  He was.  They’d slipped into light banter, easy talking that had reminded them both of a time that was simpler.  But this time, they were together in more ways than just AWOL C-Sec and SPECTRE.

She could have laughed.  What an odd pair they were.  She supposed they always had been.  Though she supposed only a pair as odd as they were would ever make it to the top of the presidium.

She’d said it there.  Her first time telling him.  Low and steady, and she had hoped the situation and look she’d given him had also told him just how much she’d meant it.  Given his reaction, she supposed it had.

And that missed can had been just another act of affection that had led to what may perhaps be her favorite sound in the entire universe.  It had been a good day.

Telling him again had honestly never crossed her mind.  They already knew.  They knew in their small conversations, their debates, their moments of healing and sought-after strength, their teamwork and their comradery.  She knew from his support and research, and she hoped he knew from her attention, frankness, and care.

Until that moment.  Until so desperate a time stood before her.  The beam had been meters away, but there was no way he was going to make it there alive.  Not on that leg, not with those injuries.  Her only option had been to send him away.  To call in Joker and send him as far away from the blast as possible.

Clichés and platitudes did nothing for nobody.  Not when it really counted.

But when it really counted, the universe’s shallow interpretations fell to the wayside.  Words made their meaning clear.  With action.  With the crack she could not and would not keep from her voice.  With the way she made sure to memorize every detail of his face.

And she told him.  In no uncertain terms.  Using the word that had so many meanings.  She meant them all and more.

“You know I love you.  I always will.”

Explosions had fallen deaf, the Reapers had stilled for one moment, and all that had mattered was the look in his eyes as she’d held her hand to his face, memorizing the feel of his scarred mandible and the feeling that his stare left her with.

And he had understood.  As he always did.  His words were pained just as hers had been, but no less true.  Pulling away from him had been the hardest thing she’d done, but this was a mission she had needed to see through.  For her sake.  For his sake.  For the sake of every friend she’d made on this journey.  Their lives hung in the balance, and she could not run away while she was able-bodied and ready to fight.

Now, however, she hung in silence.  Now, her body was unresponsive.  Now, the reapers were finished.  They would no longer return to hunt organic life.

The victory was not without cost. She could feel herself falling out of the crucible, out of the sky.  It would take a miracle to survive, and she was fresh out of those.  So, as she plummeted to the Earth’s surface, she found a morbid sense of peace in a platitude.  In words that would have meant so very little to her in another context or from anybody else, but not this time.

Because before the Normandy had taken off, Garrus Vakarian had looked at her, pained by her decision, and spoke the words that she knew would be on her mind even as she collided with the Earth’s surface.  The final comfort she chose to take, she took in the form of a beautiful cliché.

“Shepard…I love you too.”

_Thud._


End file.
